Like Falling Stars in February
by Serotiny
Summary: or alternatively, The Five Times Damon Asked Bonnie to Dance and the One Time She Said Yes. Impossible things are happening everyday. Even a judgmental witch and an immoral vampire learning to at least tolerate the other's existence. Strongly Bamon flavored.
1. Chapter One

_March 3, 2013_

Despite the labeling, I would not necessarily call this a romance. Actually, I'm trying to portray Damon and Bonnie's relationship in a realistic manner. I find it hilarious when people just gloss over all the destruction that Damon caused and how much, (at the beginning) Bonnie was terrified of him. I don't think it fits self-righteous Bonnie's character to forgive and forget so easily. Not to mention he pretty much screwed over all the female figures in her family.

By the by, **Disclaimer: I own neither the photo nor the characters!**

Hopefully, I will be able to portray their relationship in a realistic sense, though only reviews will tell me if I fail or succeed! On that note, I present you…

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Like Falling Stars in February

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**Chapter One**

**or**

**In Which a Dashing Young Man Meets His Annoying Solution**

The vampire walked through the woods on steady feet. Over the centuries, this particular path had been carved into the ground by the same family. Indentions from where the rain had fallen last night were as smooth and pliable as clay. He wished that the rain on the tip of falling from the overhanging clouds would stay airborne a little longer. Unlike during the winter months where if were to fall, it would at least be cooling; during the summer months, it would just be uncomfortable. The rain would coalesce on his skin and the clear drops would just compound the moisture already heavy in the air.

He sighed and missed the low-hanging branch that _thwack_ed him in the face. This is why he hated the South and the Eastern seaboard in general. Water would not evaporate before the next rainfall and the air would remain muggy.

Damon paused; the breeze finally reappeared and within its flow, pine needles and sap. His chest expanded as he further inhaled the scent on the wind. _There_! The fragrance of caramel and of clay was immersed in the forest's perfume. He ignored the overwhelming smell of the trees and focused on the evasive incense; his body turned slightly to the south.

With a faster pace, he allowed his feet to travel along the ethereal trail left behind. Trees and bushes blurred past him as he kept his eyes forward. When he clearly saw the girl, he immediately paused and stated, "Wow, you look absolutely silly."

The little Bennett witch calculatedly stared at him with both hands on her head. The little girl had no shoes on and was wearing summery green shorts and a bluish tank top. The ground was covered with stamped pine needles in what was obviously a cleared space. A bulky boom box radio was nestled in the trunk of the tree and continued to blare some repetitive song. She was alone. Her curly head slightly tilted as if to assess him and decide if he were worth her time. Deeming him to be unthreatening (clearly, she was ignorant of her family's heritage) she went back to her self-appointed task.

It was not until the third verse in the annoying song that he realized she was dancing (or at least attempting) to the Macarena. Her jerky movements tried to follow the specific order in the well-known song but it seemed as if she only saw the dance one time. During a dream. When she was drunk. After her fifth attempt to fully complete the silly dance, Damon could not help but propose, "I could show you how to do the dance."

She did not spare him one glance and continued her macabre version.

"You're just going to ignore me? I'm giving you very valuable opportunity here to not embarrass yourself in front of your fellow preschoolers."

Pine needles and dirt crunching underfoot were the only vocal response he received. He literally saw her nose rise in the air and her eyes tightly screw shut. The song was nearing the end and she was still doing a near perfect rendition of the hokey-pokey but a horrible form of the Macarena.

The dance was actually rather annoying and he hated when it came on in the clubs. The only reason he was offering was to gain the confidence of the little witch. He might have promised Emily to protect her descendants, but that did not necessarily mean that they trusted him. It was best to befriend them when they were young and then nicely ask them to open the tomb were Katherine was trapped. "Come on, short stack! Toss me a bone!"

The horrid song finally ended and the girl spun on her toes to the radio. Damon belatedly realized that the supposed radio was actually some oversized cassette player. As she squatted in front of it, light fingers pressed the rewind button _and_ turned up the volume. Great. While she (and now himself, he guessed) were waiting for it to get back to the beginning, she promptly asked, "Is your name Scooby Dooby Doo?"

"Umm…No?" Finally hearing hear voice was the reason that his answer was hardly witty.

Green eyes pierced him as she continued, "Astro?" He felt his arms automatically beginning to cross as the trace of a frown flashed across his face; eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"Nooo.." he drew out the word.

"Shiloh?"

"Of course not, but I don't see where you going with this." He quickly paced forward and abandoned his branch covering completely. The child, to her credit, just flinched slightly and pretended to remember that she should probably press play on the radio. She turned back to the electronic and pressed play and then pause.

Shoulders slumped in as she recalled, "Grams says that I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"Oh." The proverbial wind was taken from his sails and his posture deflated. He then remembered that he was supposed to be befriending her, not frightening her. Damon slowly sank to the ground but not before scooting towards her a couple of inches. Needles poked through his faded jeans but he ignored the irritation with practiced ease. "So?" he prompted.

"So…?" She repeated, her head turning to glance at him and throw the question back at him. Emerald eyes flitted from his face to her cassette player in a silent warning to the amount of time she was allotting him.

_Damned brat. _This was why he hated children. They whined about getting their way and forced mature adults to cater to their every whim. Then, they asked stupid questions to understand every nuance of the conversation when, in reality, they should just shut up and obey and trust that capable adults knew what they were talking about.

He smiled and sweetly asked, "What's your name?"

"Oh." Her little face pinched together before calmly explaining that she could not tell him her name.

The smile froze on his face and his left eye started to slightly twitch. "Why not?"

She uncomfortably grabbed three branches and started fluidly braiding them together. One pine, two eucalypts, he absently noted. She neither answered his question nor looked him in the eye.

"See," he said, leaning his body forward and patting the curly, dark hair in a show of affable kindness, "I'm hoping that your impressionable little mind will forget me in a couple of years and we'll be able to start over in a couple more years. So, if you could just tell me your name..."

Damon jerked his hand as the girl abruptly sat up. She stiffly brushed her shorts from some indistinguishable dirt speck and flounced toward the music player. The radio was rather hefty and she was forced to pick it up with both of her dirt-streaked hands. The rather awkward shape forced her to assume a waddling stance. She turned towards where he assumed she lived. Though Damon was more than capable of helping, he wasn't offering and she wasn't asking. The slight fear she showed earlier was absent as she waddled past him with the air of a regal queen.

He perversely enjoyed her struggle before calling out, "Where are you going?"

"I'm not supposed to. Talk. To. Strangers." Her self-imposed march did not break stride as she gave the flippant remark. The vampire spared one last glance for the created clearing before effortlessly catching up with the kid.

"Well, give me your name and I'll give you mine," he reasoned, "then we won't be strangers! That's half of a friendship, right?" _I'm pretty sure the best way to beat a child is to outsmart them. Confound them with logic and watch them squirm as they are forced to concede your point_. He quickly hid his smirk when he saw the little Bennett glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

When she was satisfied that Damon was not joking, she carefully contemplated it before saying, "No."

This time, her short response did not deter him in the slightest and he easily asked, "What else is there to friendship?" He slowed his pace even further as her march slowed to practically a crawl.

"Knowing stuff about the other person." The eye twitch was definitely back. There went his plans for the rest of the day to explore old haunts and sample some different types of bourbon. Time to turn the conversation back on her.

"Okay, tell me about yourself." There was no way that he was going to lose to some self-righteous—

"No."

"Alright you're beginning to sound like a broken record, squirt. How about I tell you a little fact about myself?"

Unsure of herself, she gave a slow, drawn out, "…Okay…" before she came to halt and painstakingly carefully set down her load. Then, she sat crisscross on the soft, scented ground and rested her elbows on her knees. She did all of this with the rapt, serious attention of a graduate student preparing to take notes on their thesis; Damon had to bite his lip from laughing outright. He doubted humor would have alleviated her solemn air and suspected that she would just leave at any perceived slight. He made a show of sitting across from her and ruffling her hair. She ignored his actions and waited patiently for the response.

"I'm very, very old."

She pouted as his answer made her livid. "No! That's cheating! That doesn't count! All grown-ups say that. For Show-and-Tell, Tyler Lockwood brought a dead cricket he found by the creek. Everyone knows that's boring, so all the kids at recess ignored him." She giggled, "He was so mad." Damon's baiting must have been working because she did not get up to leave.

"And I just remembered the cruelty of children," he mumbled. A blustery day, skipping flat stones, and Stefan's crumpled, babyish face flashed through his mind.

"What?" He would have smirked at her for her perplexed face if he wasn't already, one, trying to get her to like him and, two, he didn't already feel the tendrils of annoyance creeping into his mind. Of all the oddness of a strange man watching her, alone, in the woods, this was what she found confounding? _Maybe because of her upbringing, she's use to strange stuff…_

"Nothing. I just thought it was funny that that's the most I've hard you say yet. Anyways, I feel as if we already know _sooooo_ much about each other. Are we friends yet?"

"Nope!" She pointed her dirt, sticky fingers at him and looked him square in the eye when she stated, "You gotta give me real diddly-squat." She _had _to take some amount of pleasure from answering him in the negative because Damon did not know anyone who so easily climbed up the charts of Most Annoying Person. She was hardly even trying and she was approaching Stefan-level of Annoying. That was not even taking into account her age and that Stefan was more than a hundred years plus her senior.

"Diddly?"

"Yup," she nodded so vigorously that he was slightly surprised that her head did not fly off her neck. "Grams says that Papa doesn't know diddly-squat about magic or anything else. So, if you give me diddly-squat I'll consider it."

"Wow, great grammar; it sounds like Grams is still the same little, interfering b—"

"Watch your mouth," she said severely. This time, her disgustingly sappy fingers poked him in the chest, leaving a thin bridge of golden amber connecting them. He could not stop his nose from scrunching together in revulsion. "When you say mean things, you're asking for a can of butt-whooping."

"Self-righteous little thing, aren't you? I was just going to say busybody," he quipped innocently. The skeptical, green eye she pinned him with inadvertently gave him what her opinion of his response was.

"Okay, okay." He said, placating. "Sheesh… Well, based on our conversation, I know that you have a grandmother and a father." A foxy grin appeared as the witch attempted to decipher if how he got his information would be considered cheating. She gave a brief, unsure nod, indicating that he should continue. Her ending opinion would decide if the information he presented was acceptable.

Well, that could be a problem. He already knew about her grandmother—he met her about fifty years prior. The extent of his knowledge stopped with that particular Bennett witch. He could have told her practically anything about her ancestors but he doubted that she would believe her. He was stuck.

It was not until he was floundering for another factoid, did he notice that the little girl was looking longingly at the discarded, forlorn radio. Ah-ha! Having a short attention span sucked for little kids, but it just gave him a clue. "Alright, I know that you can't dance the Macarena!"

Surprisingly, she gave him a hurt look. "So?"

He forged forward, "I can show you how to do it." He fluidly stood to his feet, brushed his backside and offered his hand. Neither were shocked when she ignored the offered hand.

Instead, she timidly asked "Really?" Like she was expecting the adult to laugh at her; her huge, jade orbs gazed at him hopefully. The mugginess that he had ignored up to that point made him brutally aware as he shifted uncomfortably from side to side. Damon felt a small pang of pity for this strange little girl dancing alone in the forest. What had seemed hilarious at the time (she really must have only seen the dance one time) echoed of seclusion; wasn't she at the age where kids gathered and played on the streets while parents watched from the comfort of their porch? So far, she only really talked about her dad, some kid named Tyler Lockwood, and her grandmother. Family and trouble-makers were not exactly normal playmates. She must be really lonely to happily interact with him.

He shook his head and immediately emptied all feelings of pity. She was only a means to an end. As long as she could fulfill Emily's promise, he owed her nothing else, neither comfort nor pity. "Yeah, what are friends for?"

"Okay. Show me but stay right there." She happily stood up, but remained in a laidback stance, waiting to watch and judge.

After giving her a dumbfounded stare he whined, "Aww, but it's more fun if we do it together."

Silence. Her arms crossed in an annoyed position and she rocked back and forth with impatience.

"Okay," he mollified, "don't look so cross." After motioning to her to press play, the little witch practically bounced to the radio with a gleeful face. Like a light switch, her face went from demonically exuberant to comically introspective.

With an appropriately reciprocal somber expression, he stuck his arms out with the precision of a typewriter. Left palm down. Right palm down. Left palm up. Right palm up. Faster and faster, his movements became a flurried commotion. He decided to add a spin and eventually was outpacing the song.

Because of his vampiric hearing, he knew that any wild life that had mustered the courage to explore the immediate vicinity quickly vacated. Overriding the undercurrent of fear and panic came the chiming of bells.

No, that was the sound of the Bennett witch laughing. Only a five year-old could laugh with that reckless wild abandon, not fearing being judged. He paused for a moment (maybe longer) in his dance to see the extraordinary event of this peculiar child acting her age. Honey lips were parted as caramel arms clutched her shaking sides. Damon wondered if he should be affronted that his dancing was _that_ hilarious but then reminded himself that he did not care what a kid thought of him.

"And that's how you do the Macarena." He said anticlimactically.

"Oh. Okay, thank you." After wiping her nose and scrubbing furiously at her eyes, she gave a quick nod of approval. She skipped to the radio and turned off. This time she rested it on her nonexistent left hip and clutched it with both hands.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Home." Her eyes were sparkling as she turned in the direction of her house. "It's almost dinner time." His eyebrows quirked as he noticed for the first time that sun indeed was almost down. Celestial lights were beginning to unveil themselves in the azure sky and the temperature was slightly dropping to a less suffocating level. Cicadas began their tuneless hum and brushing pine needles began their slight harmony.

This time, he did not follow (_with my luck, that old witch is probably looking for the brat now and I'd probably run into her_); instead, he called out: "But we had a deal, squirt! Your name for the dance lessons!"

"No, it was my name for yours. The dancing was because you're nice." she corrected. Her slow shuffle was beginning to transform into a slight jog as she realized that she was really supposed to be home now.

If Damon told her his name, she might tell someone else or her grandma; he risked the chance of someone recognizing it and leading the council breathing down his neck. Strangely enough, he did not want to give her a pseudonym. _She could probably tell I'm lying, _he reasoned. He would rather that her strange day would recede into the foggy depths of childhood memories. "…I'm not going to do that."

"Alright, bye." She obligingly gave him a free slight smile.

"See you around," he drawled cautiously.

"I don't talk to strangers," she reminded patiently.

She didn't even spare the odd stranger a backwards glance.

Silence echoed across the trees and was only slowed down by the humidity in the air. Animals began to lumber from their dens, preparing to prowl during the twilight. The vampire was left alone in the forest.

He continued to watch the curly head struggle with her load until the pines blocked his view. Even then, he concentrated his hearing so that he could hear when she got to her house. After hearing the exclamation of a more mature voice and the beginnings of a scolding, he blocked out the voices. He remained motionless for a few more beats before _humph_ing and turning on his heels in the direction of the Salvatore boarding , getting Katherine out of the tomb was beginning to look a lot harder. And, if Damon were honest with himself, at least a little more amusing.

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Ha, I think I'm going to have fun with this story. I love their interactions with each other and the snark-to-snark combat! The Bamon was strong in this past week's episode.

So, I decided that this is going to be a five chapter story. Hopefully, I'll be updating next Sunday. Please review!

Thus, I depart.


	2. Chapter Two

_March 31, 2013_

_Happy Easter? Yeah…so when I said Sunday, I clearly meant three Sundays from now. My bad. I offer my deepest and sincerest apologies. I hate when people say they are going to do something and fail to meet those obligations. To be fair, I have already written all of the dialogue for the rest of the chapters; it's just adding descriptions to pad out. This is a long way from what I used to struggle with… dialogue. Well, to (partially) make-up for the long wait, I now present to you…_

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Like Falling Stars in February

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**Chapter Two**

**or**

**In Which Distinctive Pieces of Shakespeare's Works Are Calmly Discussed**

The bass instrument beat a compelling rhythmic sway, in time to the flashing iridescent lights overhead. A shot glass, had specks of clear amber, glazing the bottom and vibrating in time to the beat; it edged, closer and closer to the edge of the bar. The possibility of an unnecessary mess escaped the notice to the lone customer.

He was practically dribbling onto the bar, the stool hardly taking his weight. Listlessly, he trailed his finger through spilled drops of his bourbon, creating an invisible, endless trail of swirls. His head was burrowed in his arm and the only way to tell that he was not unconscious was the constant swaying of his head and how is legs twisted from side to side (it was still hard to tell though).

It was to this heartbreaking scene that short legs glanced at and meandered to, cutting through the crowd that was actually having a good time. She noticed the sleek brown hair unbury itself and peer blearily at the dancers in the middle of the club. The monster on the floor allowed people out of its maw and to flash into existence with bright lights. Bright hues from auburn to azure and back again indicated their emergence before disappearing back into the beast's beast, writhing on the floor.

The crowd held no interest to either spectator, but the brunette was eyeing a beautiful blonde with legs sky-high. He was already slouching out of the chair and fixing a careless smirk to his face when a curly hair blocked his view of the stunning beauty.

"I wouldn't if I were you." Her lips were puckered and her hands rested on her hips, the picture of discontent. Internally, the young man sighed and shifted his weight; with this sneaky endeavor, he could just catch the faintest whiff of perfume and the singlest, most alluring, sultry smil— Her short stature shifted as well, quickly catching onto his game. She gave a brief sigh and put her hands on his shoulder and made him turnabout.

"How could I even contemplate having a little fun with Inspector friggin' Javert breathing over my shoulder?" He allowed her to lead him back to his seat for one reason and one reason only, it was impossible to dissuade a determined Bennett witch. The best course of action was to agree with whatever she felt the need to preach at him and wait for her to get bored. Then, maybe he would still have a chance with that beautiful blonde tilting her head seductively, wanting him to dance with her…

"Affectionate words like that don't necessarily endear me to your self-pitying party." First, the witch needed to be dealt with. He arranged his face to present her with his brightest, most glaring grin.

"So what's a little bitch like you doing here?" Being blunt tended to work on most girls, right? Hopefully, his rather rude mouth would drive her away and she could go find another choir to preach to. (Clearly, the alcohol was inhibiting any logical functions in his brain.)

"Surprisingly, calling me a bitch makes me like you even less." She returned his grin with a sweet smile, illustrating the sentiment. Damon could not believe that he forgot that the witch was not like most girls. The crossed arms already indicated he was in for a long lecture; she wasn't going anywhere.

"Congratulations! I didn't think it was possible to have my hatred for you grow but I guess wonders never cease." She ignored how Damon sagged back onto the stool and studiously tried to ignore her. While his forehead was slightly banging the wood, she gently moved his shot glass from the edge where it was about to bounce off. The bartender that strode over to the couple to offer drinks, turned pale at the piercing glare of hazel eyes, slowed down, stopped, and spun, practically running to another location. He so did not want any confrontations tonight. "Besides, I thought that little nickname was reserved for your girlfriend, Kather—"

"What's in a name?" he made a vague motion in their air, trying to appear learned, "That which we call a witch separates itself from a bitch by one impotent letter." He suddenly remembered that he had had a drink earlier and beckoned the bartender with simply a look. The bartender teetered, back and forth, deciding who he would be able to walk away from a fight unscathed. The man appeared rather drunk and the woman was still giving him the evil eye. He made his decision—he scurried to another customer.

"Wow. You're in a good mood tonight." Great, now she was descending onto the seat with the sort of finality of an avenging angel would have. "They must be serving the good stuff tonight. Damnéd, wretched, _vile _humans." She feigned a sneer at the other patrons. "How dare they not think that their lives are meant to serve only you?"

_If you can't scare them…_"You catch on quick." He made sure to put his mouth directly in front of her nose and exhale deeply; he was rewarded with her scrunched nose and her involuntary stepping back.

"Don't you dare." Oh, _now_ she was getting upset that he responded with sarcasm. It figured that she tolerated being superior and looking down on him when he didn't fight back but heaven forbid that he believed she was wrong and vocalized it.

"To drain or not to drain. That is _not_ the question. Whether 'tis more filling in the stomach to suck a blonde dry or to taste a brunette woozy. To drink… a drink…" His voice was rising in a crescendo and his arms waved, conducting an orchestra that only he could see. His cajole was starting to override the music; other people were starting to look at them with curious expressions. The foolish bartender chuckled to himself and reevaluated his will to live by considering conversing with the homicidal vampire.

"Not on my watch." Gone was the cheerful, if not sardonic Bonnie, and here came Humanity's Defender. Huh. That was actually a cool superhero name. Damon wondered if she would mind being called that. _Ah, hell if I care. I'll make sure to call her that the next time she gets all condescending Bonnie…which should be, according to my calculations, in about…_ He mentally pretended to check his watch. _Twenty-three seconds._

"I suppose ambition should be made of sterner stuff."

She slowly spun her stool seat to face the crowd and leaned casually against the bar. "_Romeo and Juliet_, _Hamlet_, _Julius Caesar_,I gotta say, you know your Shakespeare relatively well." A tight smile appeared and she gave a dainty sniff. Good, she was looking down on him. _That's my girl; predictability is a blessing..._

"Well," he reasoned, "after about five decades of aimless wandering, there is little else to do but take a couple of college courses." He moodily focused on the glazed wood bar top. From the corner of her eye, Bonnie could see Damon smirk to himself and say, "Besides, being able to quote is a great way to get to know the hotter female student body. Literally and figuratively… Actually, just literally." Regardless of the simmering angel at his side, he continued to leer at the blonde. He could outrun the clinging short girl, couldn't he? Didn't she have better things to do than harass him? Like saving old people from trees and helping kittens cross the street?

"And here you had almost impressed me;" she deadpanned, "now I remember—you're an idiot."

"And brevity is the soul of wit, darling." He leaned towards her as pale fingers lightly brushed back a loose curl and flew away, before the witch could shove him away. When she gawked at him in shock, he studiously ignored her. She curbed the desire to stick her tongue out at him; just to be defiant, she put the lock back where it was.

"So you must be the Stephen Hawking of our generation!" She sarcastically exclaimed. Without thinking, she ruffled his hair and pinched his cheeks. She had to bite back a grin when he gave her a sour look. It took a lot to throw off the tempo of the proclaimed King of Swag.

"First and foremost, I am the everything of everyone's generation." Damon could not resist running his fingers through his hair, fixing what she messed up, and snootily send a sleazy grin. "Secondly, I'm at least Isaac Newton hot."

Gosh, he was arrogant. Bonnie could feel her eyes roll. _If I'm not careful, my eyes are going to get stuck like that. It's not like I can help it; Damon brings out the worst in people._ The annoying beat of the bass was becoming more and more grating; the epileptic light cast stranger and stranger shadows as the beast danced on.

She did a mental retake and gave him a sideways glance. "How would you know how hot he was?" The vampire could have a weird sense of humor sometimes…

"I knew a person who knew him." It never ceased to amaze her how Damon could carelessly toss fascinating tidbits like that… "His brains were only equivalent to his silver tongue. Who else could charm the ladies with his stupid talk of apples and inertia?"…and then negate the awesomeness by his stupidity.

She abruptly stood up. "Alright, I am officially done with this—"

"Bonners, I think I know the answer!" His finger pointed dramatically to the ceiling. The dancers who had finally begun to return to their own mechanics once again had their interests peaked and began to watch the odd couple. She scowled at the onlookers until, one by one, they abashedly looked away and returned to what they were doing. _One problem down_, she turned to her more recent project,_ another to go._

"Answer?" came the dry query. "I didn't even know there was a question. Oh, wait," she gave a deceptive grin "do I give you such a major aneurysm that you don't heal so you permanently become Stephen Hawking minus the brains?"

He shook his head and gave her a patronizing pat on the head. "No, silly rabbit, we clearly need to disperse the air of tension between us by dancing on the dance floor and laying it all out. Nothing held back." The vampire stood up from his chair and stretched until Bonnie was sure the other side of the room could hear the ominous _crack _coming from his bones. Then, pretending he was the perfect gentleman, he offered his hand to her.

Suddenly, the Bennett witch felt self-conscious. When she decided that a change of pace and brisk air would be welcomed to the suffocating dimensions of her room, (okay, _maybe_ she wanted to make sure that Damon didn't get so drunk that he painted the town red. Literally.) She did not try to dress up to the nines. For Pete's sake, it was a Tuesday; she had figured that hardly anyone would be up-and-about! Now, she regretted that decision.

That silly blonde who was still making eyes at the tall, brunette man had on a gorgeous orange club dress that was definitely not appropriate for a small town like Mystic Falls. Everyone dancing was dressed in gorgeous attire. The old, long-sleeved T-shirt that hung slightly over faded bell bottoms weren't what she'd wear to school on a normal day, let alone out on the town. Ratty, Converse shoes were comfortable but definitely not comparable to the high stilettos. Then, she remembered Damon was asking. Did she actually consider saying yes?

She stared at the hand like it was hemlock until he let it drop to his side. Then she stole a page from his book and arched a brow. "So… I believe that is my cue to bow out." The witch backed away from him, "I mean, the only reason I came here was to make sure that you didn't kill anyone. If you're coherent enough to spout nonsense, then you're coherent enough to listen." She stopped and glared, commanding, "Don't kill anyone in this bar." The Bennett made a quick retreat.

"Wait…Don't go," his hands tightly gripped her wrist, binding her to the spot, "there's no one else I can battle wits with without feeling like I'm picking on the slow kid. Please?" Bonnie almost did not hear the last part; because she was leaning against his restraining arm, she could easily see the scene before her. The night that had started off as an almost-black blue, had lightened into a pale lavender. The music that had been a steady beat to their conversation had ebbed away into a slow song. Anyone still on the floor was stumbling out the door.

"I think there are some brilliant rocks outside that would love to converse with you…" Her half-hearted quip signified her growing indifference. She had promised Elena that she would keep an eye on Damon while she and Stefan had their me-time. How could she say no? Her best friend had already taken the mantle of Damon's leash; the least she could do would be to let her have a break. Of course it was also for her own benefit; she could not bear the thought of Damon going on a killing spree and injuring innocent citizens. He'd have to go through her first.

A dark hand rubbed at suddenly sleepy eyes. How long had she been out? She did _not_ havetime for this. She had promised Caroline that she would help decorating for the next dance. Elena and she were supposed to meet after school today to begin to map out a schedule for when they would meet. Not to mention the American History and Chemistry test that were quickly approaching…

"Ouch…" A hand hovered over where his human heart once was. Simultaneously, Bonnie stopped perfunctory struggling and Damon stopped drawing her back. He was broodily examining her; she took an involuntary step backwards. Instead of getting in her personal space, like he was prone to do, he ambled back to his seat and turned his back to her. "You always manage to hurt me. You and that other one…" He could not finish the sentence. His head began to sink down onto the table.

The very (very) small part of her that barely enjoyed their light banter was gone. The engaging man who had seemed to be drunkenly pensive before, in the light of day just seemed pathetic. Her discomfort rose and the need to escape became overwhelming; it was never pleasant to be compared to Katherine. "Quoth I, 'Nevermore'", she softly murmured. Better to leave when he was not paying attention.

"_The Raven_?" his head emerged again and hooded, blue eyes pinned her in place. "That's not Shakespeare."

"Yeah, that was over about nine minutes ago…" she bit her lip then glanced at her very existent watch. It was already 6:30. School would be starting in about an hour and a half. "Look, I really have to go." She frowned, giving a soft sigh before gritting her teeth and offering, "Want me to call Stefan so he'll pick you up?" She could not help but hope that he answered in the negative; it would be really awkward talking to Stefan without Elena as a buffer.

"I knew you liked me!" Or he would completely ignore the question. She would take that as a no. In a complete turnabout, he sprung from his seat and launched himself at her waist, leaving the seat spinning like a bright red top. "Don't besties count their minutes apart?"

Thankfully, along with the slick tiled floor, her reflexes had improved vastly after deciding that her friend group now consisted of one vampire. (Yes, just one. She had to tolerate her best friend's boyfriend.) She swiftly tilted to the right and allowed him to fall to flat on his face to the sticky floor. The bartender that she had forgotten about laughed out loud and quickly muffled it when Damon stumbled to his feet and glowered at him. She distracted him, "Unless you mean counting the moments until we can be parted, no." A short, stilted hand wave, "Goodbye."

"The course of true love never did run smooth." It seemed that his erratic, intoxicated emotions were back to their depressed state. At least that was what she thought before he gave her a seductive smile. She rolled her emerald eyes before turning away and sauntering out of the bar and towards the rising sun. Not sleeping seemed to become a more and more common reality nowadays.

"Pretty good." Her head automatically turned slightly to the side to capture one last image of the ruminating man. "Next time, try using something more obscure to impress me." With those last words, she let the door slide shut behind her, the bell hanging overhead ringing.

The bartender listlessly rubbed a glass, patiently waiting for the sun to rise and fall and for the night to return. Until then, the bar could use some cleaning from what people left. He glanced unobstructively at his last patron. Now, he just had to convince him to leave.

The vampire thoughtlessly listened to the echoing bell fade away to silence. He was now the only customer still in the building. He abruptly switched seats and sat where the witch had been. He gave a deep whiff and gave a low-sounding sigh; he could still, barely, smell the pine. "Hmmm," he rubbed his chin slowly, "So she can be impressed…"

* * *

_Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoyed the second chapter in Like Falling Stars in February. Please review and I hope to post soon! (No promises though!) Enjoy the holiday!_

_Thus, I depart._


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